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Orym’s chest is heavy, as if the force of the explosion hit him head on. Staring at the charred body of Otohan Thull, Orym remembers Will. He remembers Derrig. His fist clenches weakly around the handle of his blade and he knows this isn’t justice.
Chetney thought his time was over, when the blade pierced his abdomen. It was calm. It was peaceful. But FCG brought him back; his last action to him was bringing the sun back to a man focused on the moon.
Fearne scours the wreckage, picking up what pieces Ashton doesn’t. It isn’t fair. Life is so fleeting. It slips through fingertips like water and she isn’t quick enough to cup her hands and contain it.
Laudna knows death. She’s seen it twice, that deep, dark end filled with a silence calm and lonely. The dark made sense, for someone like her, a kin to the shadows that enveloped her. But not him.
Ashton’s hand slams against the rock and they try to focus on the pain. The weight of metal is heavy bundled in his free arm. For the one who saved them, stayed by their side, broke through the fizzle of every day life; FCG deserved to be carried home.
Imogen feels that gnawing, hungry anger inside of her. The group emerges from the tunnels and the sight of lavender just feeds that growth. Her mother’s hands are in her own, soft words reaching her ears but not her mind, and she knows that she has once again been someone’s demise.